A Little Bit of Charity And Much Remembrance
by Sleeper1519
Summary: A collection of introspective drabbles involving the NPCs of Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice. Some canon divergence.


Chapter 1: Outskirts Wall - Stairway

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Back in the day when Anayama was still throwing in his lot with that ragtag group of bandits, he had spared little thought or devotion for the gods. Faith did not put food or coin on the table. It were the opportunists who won in life! It was as true as the fact that the sun rose in the east and set in the west. One need only work their head a little to see evidence of it in every facet of life.

Just look at the Memorial Mob. They wouldn't be multiplying like mushrooms all over Ashina if they hadn't seen some benefit in the concept of 'buying offerings' now would they? And the wars would have stopped long ago if the people on top had not seen the value of fighting each other for land and resources. Power and all that you know? If there was anyone who would still dare say he was wrong, sword-saint Isshin and the history of Ashina would like to have a very harsh word.

Life was about seeing your opportunities and having the daring to seize them while the iron was hot. Those who didn't ended up like Juzo, who threw away his chance at life because he just couldn't see far enough and keep his hands off his liquor.

The point he was trying to make is simple. Men made their own destiny. What he doesn't have, he will take. Or if things are better, he will earn. The most that he can spare for the gods, is to not touch their shrines and temples out of a basic level of respect. Outside of that, he would not place his hopes on divinity to drive his fortunes.

Still, it was times like this that made him pause, feel a little awed, and wonder if perhaps the gods are nearer than he thought after all.

Because, holy shit, money is falling from the sky! A lot of it! What miracle is this?!

Glittering gold coins burst overhead like so much confetti at a celebratory festival, clinking delicately against each other like sweet music to his ears. Within seconds, the patch of ground before him shimmered a dazzling yellow as the coins fell over the hardened mud like sakura petals in spring. Yet it didn't stop there. Another cloud of money exploded over the roof he had set up shop under. He thought he heard someone yell, but he could barely pay that any attention.

Anayama felt his jaw drop open.

What in the world?! Was there a god up there on a little cloud sprinkling his offerings everywhere as a trade-off for all the misfortune that had plagued Ashina in recent years? He must have been so baffled at the unexpected occurrence because he actually lunged forward over his money box and stretched his neck out to peer up at the sky, only to recoil in alarm as a sudden dark shape loomed over his head. A fresh, dead body came crashing down before him.

A second later, another person entered his line of sight and a familiar shinobi came tumbling out the air. _Alive_, thankfully, and landing with far more grace.

"Good sir!" Anayama wheezed, shock and glee warring a fine mess in his mind, and for a while he finds himself tongue-tied, half-aware that he was clutching his chest as though he was about to have a heart attack. He eyed the shiny gold on the ground. While he wanted very much to address the curious incident that had just occurred (and maybe throw all decorum aside and start raking in that free money like a madman), he knew his priorities. A good merchant never snubs their best customer! So it was with no small amount of enthusiasm that he greeted amiably, "You've returned! Is there anything I can help you with? Or were you passing by on business?"

Anayama studied the body on the ground. It was wearing foreign garb, or at least, he thinks it's not one that belonged to Ashina's troops.

In the short time he had known the man, Anayama was never quite sure whose allegiance sir shinobi had sworn himself to. He had seen the man at the Hirata estate defending the place against the bandits. Yet here, three years later, he was fighting the Ashina whom the Hirata had been loyal to. And now, he had killed someone else who may or may not be allied with another army. All he knew was that good sir was a man on a mission. It should have made him nervous, to know that the rogue shinobi appeared to switch sides so easily. But the man had spared his life before, and indulged his shameless requests for donations to start his business. It made it hard to distrust the man. And as a former thief, it really wasn't his place to judge.

"You should leave this place," the shinobi remarked, blunt and straight to the point as always. "Ashina is not safe."

"More than usual you mean?" Everyone knew that war was already on Ashina's doorstep, with rogue sightings and attacks happening every other day. It was just a matter of time until she becomes overrun. "Ah, it's a little too soon for my liking, to be honest. Business just started taking off."

Now, Anayama was no fool, and like every sane person out there he valued his life. However, the battlefields were ripe with opportunity. There were plenty of things to find among the dead, and those who still lived had a high demand for food, medicine and other resources for the war. He knew the risks he was taking staying so close to Ashina castle, but he had done well for himself so far. And perhaps, some part of him still hoped that the conflict in Ashina wouldn't take a turn for the worse as they were expecting.

Besides, he was not so deluded to believe that the chaos was solely confined within Ashina's borders. There was fighting outside Ashina as well, so he heard, between other factions. No matter where he went, the view would be the same. And if the war didn't kill him, some other brigand or rogue wanderer might just come along and do him in. Ha! Now wouldn't that be karmic retribution?

Sir shinobi rarely had much expression on his face, but the gaze that was levelled at him was full of reprimand. "It'll be too late if you wait. They won't give you time to run."

Well... That was true. As much as they were anticipating the war, there was no rule that said the enemy had to play fair and announce their presence the day they launched a full-scale invasion. There wouldn't be a warning for people like him to pack their belongings and leave. A wise choice would be to take the chance and escape.

But he still might just be able to survive and make it through, if he was clever or sneaky enough... Surely there was some way he could keep his business going and still dodge out the way of trouble?

Hmm... What to do?

As he hummed to himself, weighing his options and feeling a little grateful that someone still cared enough to warn him of the coming danger (most people were too preoccupied with preserving their own lives in this war after all), the shinobi stretched his left arm out towards him, holding something heavy in his hand.

"Would you go if I give you this?"

For the second time that day, Anayama gaped speechlessly in astonishment. That pouch was practically overflowing with coin!

Yet despite being on the receiving end of such good-will , a sense of incredulity overwhelmed every other emotion he felt.

"...My friend," he breathed out almost exasperatedly, "don't take this the wrong way, but what kind of man just gives that much money away? Are you a shogun, or the emperor himself?" While he usually wasn't a person who looked a gift horse in the mouth, Anayama wasn't that much of a scum to take advantage of his apparently senseless benefactor. It would be terrible if he didn't set this man straight right now. What if someone worse than himself tried to hoodwink this poor soul into giving away his fortune?!

Sir shinobi looked decidedly unimpressed at his reproach, as though unconvinced that Anayama was speaking his true intentions. Really now, was it that hard to believe he was also a man with morals and a working conscience?

"I'm serious, sir," he reaffirmed. "Such charity is not commonplace, you know? Not that I don't appreciate all that you have done for me, but if anyone else had done this, I would say that they are daft or that they've lost their heads completely."

It could be that Anayama had lived too long as a crook. Any selfless or generous gesture seemed like a fool's ignorance to him now. Most people didn't do things for free or go out their way to fulfil the requests of strangers they barely knew. He had never been under the impression that shinobi were a sympathetic lot, yet this man here seemed to have more compassion than the regular person. It honestly made him feel a little vile in comparison.

That was why Anayama was more partial to mutual agreements and fair exchange of goods and info nowadays. At least that way, nobody lost out.

If his words caused any offense or made the shinobi doubt his own decision in any way, the man sure didn't show it. His expression was as impassive as ever. Only the slight pause and lull in conversation hinted at...something. Not awkwardness or embarrassment, but a seeming lack of understanding at the response to his offer. He probably just expected him to snatch it up and run.

Maybe he _should _have done just that. What's he doing trying to talk sense into a rigid shinobi?

"It's fine," the other man tried to reassure. "There's too much of it to carry on my person anyway."

_Too much_ of it? What? Anayama felt as though he had mentally tripped over and was falling in midair. And here he thought he couldn't get any more flabbergasted.

"Good sir, you're a real unique case, aren't ya? I have never heard anyone complain about having too much money!" The earlier shower of coins suddenly made a whole lot more sense in his mind. Leave it to a man with such an unorthodox view on wealth to weaponise money as shrapnel!

"I could say the same for you," came the easy rebuttal, and as the shinobi's strange bone-like contraption of a limb jangled the bag of coins in its grasp, Anayama caught the undertone of wit in the reply. It seemed this friend of his was a bit more cheeky than he realised.

All throughout their little discussion, that hand never retracted its offering. The man was resolute that he accept it. It was very apparent by now that sir shinobi cared little for the wealth that he was giving away. He just didn't want him to die out here.

The decision between his life or his money. To Anayama, both were the same thing. To the shinobi, one was more important than the other. The other man was trying to influence the choice out of his own hands by gifting him the very thing that he lived for.

Perhaps he should have been indignant, being steered about like that. They were both wanderers who lived by their own code and principles. Neither side answered to the other. Yet a part of him felt a twinge of gratitude at the perceived kindness. Can he really begrudge someone for trying to save others?

Anayama chuckled lightly. What else can he say? Even if he told him 'No, I'll rather stay', he would be sending the man away with a load of unnecessary worry and regret. And in these unpleasant times of conflict, there was already too much of that going around. It would simply be unkind of him to repay the other in such a manner.

Either taking his silence as a sign of acquiescence or great reluctance, the shinobi bent forward to place the coin purse atop the wooden collection box. "Just get away while you still can," the man urged. "The less people caught up in this the better." He moved to turn away. "Farewell."

Anayama called out before the man could leap away. "If fate allows it, let us meet again, my friend. Don't die out there yourself." The faint trepidation that rose within him as he glimpsed the stiff set of those shoulders made him press on, "I'll look forward to your patronage again, someday."

A solemn nod and then he was gone.

Left alone with a brimming coin pouch and a floor full of riches, Anayama looked up at the heavens. It might just be him overdramatizing after such a sombre and unexpected encounter, but he thought he could sense the hand of providence moving things from beyond his sight. For the first time in a long while, he quietly, and maybe foolishly, prayed.

May the gods be merciful and keep them all safe.

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Author's note:

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice was such a bittersweet experience for me. I felt a lot more connected to the characters as they struggled through this war on the verge of losing everything, and I wanted to save everyone so bad, especially the hapless NPCs. I had so many coin purses in NG+ that I wished there was an option to just chuck it at the characters and tell them to get away from that hellhole.

But the main reason I started this fic was because the item description for the 'bulging coin purse' tickled me. Looks like our boy Sekiro appreciates the value of coin quite a bit, but he's also willing to throw it at enemies as a weapon. I wanted to write a scenario of someone reacting to that fact, so I made it in the perspective of an NPC who would see that as heresy.

I took some liberties with Anayama's character. Canonically he would rather die than abandon his business. But that didn't make sense to me. Can't he just set up shop elsewhere? So this turned into a rather self-indulgent AU where he actually lives.


End file.
